


the children all of vengeful fathers

by allthempickles



Series: left in the dark [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Blood and Gore, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Character Study, Coming Out, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Gen, Gender Confusion, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Growing Up, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Injury, Introspection, Loneliness, Mild Gore, Neglect, Questioning, Running Away, Sexuality, Tattoos, Underage Smoking, coming out to self
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 20:13:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17987798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthempickles/pseuds/allthempickles
Summary: Moments from Klaus's childhood.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of what will be a series. I put my music on shuffle and I'm going to write a part of a story for each song.
> 
> The songs:  
> Stab Yer Dad - Spoonboy  
> In Between - Beartooth  
> Heaven - Pvris  
> White Teeth Teens - Lorde  
> Heaven is Under The Sun - Beta Play
> 
> Title and inspiration for this one from Stab Yer Dad.

In the mausoleum, Klaus feels like he’s suffocating. The darks seems to make the walls close in further and further. He can’t get a grasp of the size of the room he’s in; it seems to shift in size and shape. The little doors in the walls and the designs shift and turn into looming figures. It makes the ghosts in here seem even more numerous.

They are all crowding in towards him. They reach out, try to stroke at his face and shoulders with their hands. Their hands sink into his skin, and it feels like ice wherever they touch him. They have wounds in their faces, or torsos, or parts of their bodies are rotted away. Klaus can see one man’s ribs. One woman has blood dripping out of her mouth.

They all know his name; he doesn’t know how. They all know his name, and they won’t stop talking to him. They scream his name, and it drowns out his own screams. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, but he hasn’t stopped screaming. It feels like his chest is collapsing, he can’t breathe. Oh god, he can’t breathe. The mausoleum, the air must be running out.

“Dad! Dad! Help please I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! Help!”

He screams, but the voices around him still drown him out. The door to the mausoleum doesn’t open. No light shines in. He can’t even remember where the entrance is anymore. He just pushes himself further and further into the corner, wishing he could fold into himself. Curled into himself he feels worse. He can’t breathe, but if he looks up he has to stare into their eyes. He doesn’t want them to touch his face with their freezing hands.

His breath comes in great heaves and gasps, trying to take in oxygen while he drowns on stale air and dust. Sobs rattle through his chest. His arms and legs tingle. The room seems to get darker, darker. Spots dance in his vision. The room finally goes completely dark.

He wakes up alone in his room, and lies there staring at the ceiling. He shivers, and his stomach feels like a chunk has been taken out of it. Aching and empty. He’s so hungry.

He reaches up to feel his face. THe skin there is still sticky with tear tracks, and it’s like he can still feel their fingers on him. Begging, grasping, yelling, screaming.

A knock at his door breaks him from the memory. He sits up, feels dizzy. His vision clouds for a moment before clearing again. Oof. The door opens and Pogo enters, standing in the doorway.

“Pogo.”

“Master Klaus. Your father wants to make sure you aren’t going to shirk your training.

Oh. Klaus thought maybe Pogo was coming in to check on him.

“Oh, no, Pogo. I won’t.”

Pogo nods and leaves.

\---

Klaus finds the heels next to the little couch with all the paintings around it. They’re a glossy pastel pink and Klaus wants to try them on. He’ll look tall and beautiful and grown up like Grace. He sits down on the floor and pulls off his shoes. They’re a boring dark grey color and they pinch his toes. He looks down at his socks in consideration, and then pulls those off too. They are discarded on the floor, crumpled up and inside out.

He slides the first heel on. The inside is smooth. His foot sinks far into it, and the back of the shoe is more than an inch away from the back of his foot. He quickly pulls on the other and then stops and admires the way they look on his feet. Hmm. He could probably walk around in these for a bit. He doesn’t think Grace would mind.

Decision made, he does up the buckles and tries to stand. It takes a few tries. He can’t get the heels on the floor, and then he starts to get up and falls backwards. In the end he has to lean on the couch and push himself up. Success.

He wobbles around for a moment. They are too big on him, and the shoes keep falling to the side of his feet when he steps, heels slipping out onto the ground. If he grips tightly with his toes, though, he can keep them on as he walks.

Gaining confidence, he begins to walk around some more, moving over to the top of the stairs. Diego is down below, sitting on the bottom step and reading a book. He is mouthing the words as he goes.

“Hey, Diego!”

Diego looks up, eyebrows raised in question.

“Look, Mom’s shoes!”

Diego’s eyes jump down to Klaus’s feet.

“Kl- Klaus?”

“Watch!”

Klaus starts to prance down the stairs. He’s almost at the bottom when it happens: his foot slips in the shoes and his ankle twists at a weird angle. The pain is sharp and wrenching. Hot and spiking up his leg. Klaus falls, and Diego shouts out. When Klaus hits the ground, there’s a cracking sound, and shooting pain in his jaw. He screams, cries.

Diego is hovering over him, scared out of his wits. He is trying to talk but can’t get the words out, clearly rattled. He puts his hand on Klaus’s shoulder and rubs it up and down, trying to provide some comfort.

“I’ll ge- ge- get- I’ll get m- mom.”

He runs off and Klaus lies there on the floor of the foyer, tears leaking out of his eyes and over his face, dripping down and off the tips of his nose and onto the floor. He reaches up to feel his jaw and the pain jumps up a notch, aching terribly. He pulls his hand back. There’s some blood on it.

Oh god, is he dying? He doesn’t want to become one of those ghosts, screaming and bleeding everywhere. He’s still curled up on the floor waiting for either death, or Diego and Grace to show up, when he hears footsteps.

He looks up and sees his father. He’s walking slowly across the room. He swings his cane out in a perfect arc, it hits the floor with a clack, he steps. His nose is up in the air, monocle over his eye as usual.

“Help.” Klaus cries out. It’s garbled; Klaus can’t talk properly, his jaw is in so much pain. Instead of trying to talk again he just cries out, moans at the pain. His father is getting closer, and Klaus waits for him to turn and stop, help Klaus up, or maybe tell him he’s dying. And isn’t that sad.

He keeps walking right past Klaus’s prone form, not turning his head or looking over. No reaction at all. This makes Klaus cry harder. Maybe it’s because he did something wrong. He must have done something wrong.

A couple minutes of pain, pain, pain later, Diego reappears with Grace and Pogo in tow. Klaus sees Grace, and remembers her heels. He’s still wearing them. That’s what he did wrong. He took her shoes.

Again, unable to talk properly, he cries out to her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry mom, I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to take them-”

His words are desperate, pained, and indistinguishable.

Then she is shushing his cries, picking him up so he is leaned against her. Diego points out where Klaus’s ankle is twisted to Grace. Then she’s lifting him up and carrying him out to the car. She places him in the back seat and buckles the seat as best as she can while he is lying down.

“Pogo is going to drive you to the hospital, okay sweetie? You’re going to be okay. It hurts but you’re going to be okay.” She is running her hands through his hair, looking him in the eyes, and that’s what finally calms him down. It still hurts so, so much, but he can’t be dying if she says that he is okay.

When she moves away he grabs at her hand, wanting her to stay.

“I’m sorry baby, you know I can’t drive. And I have to stay at the house.”

“Diego?”

She looks at him sadly.

“I don’t think your father would be okay with that. Don’t worry, we’ll come and visit.”

No one comes and visits. 

He only gets to see Diego when he gets home days later. Diego hugs him quickly, careful not to jostle Klaus when he is injured, and then Klaus is being sent off to his bed to rest.


	2. Chapter 2

Klaus isn’t good at listening during their lessons. Klaus isn’t attentive enough in lessons. Klaus can’t focus, is off in his head, or trying to drown out the voices of so many spirits. Klaus is busy worrying about Five, though a year has already passed. He still hopes. And he know Vanya still hopes. She leaves sandwiches out for him. He caught her one time, or should he say she caught him, when he was sneaking back into the house after walking to a nearby alcohol store that didn’t card.

Klaus is distracted. That’s why he is now in Hargreeves’ office, receiving another lecture on how much of a disappointment he is.

“Number Four, I expected more from you. This team is incredibly important. More important than anything that could be distracting you from training. You need to learn to stop putting yourself before others. Be considerate, stop thinking about just yourself…”

Klaus is in his head again, feeling so far away from this moment. Far away from the man he thought might have been his father, once. Far away from the accusing words and the clutter of the old man’s desk. One of the big windows is open, and the breeze sweeps in every once in a while, caressing Klaus’s hot skin. Soothing the itch for nicotine. Klaus resists turning to look out the window, watch the trees dance and shimmy in the wind. He has to keep up the pretense of listening, but he wants to hang out the window and smoke a cigarette.

Reginald Hargreeves is still talking. Klaus watches the way his ugly, mean face moves. Hmm. Klaus sticks his hands in pockets, and finds a starburst candy. Score! He nods along with whatever Hargreeves is saying and pulls the starburst out, unwrapping it and sticking it in his mouth. He sticks the wrapper back in his pocket and continues to chew, still nodding slowly.

Reginald stops talking and gives him an assessing look.

“Number Four. Don’t forget, I have cameras all around the house. I know when someone is leaving the house without permission. Now you can ruin your life however you so choose, but you show up to training, you pay attention, and you don’t distract the team. Don’t let your… issues affect them.”

Klaus feels almost floaty, disconnected. He’s tuning Reginald out on purpose now, trying to disconnect himself from the situation. His pants shift and scratch, uncomfortable and stiff. His sweater is itchy. He needs to get out of here.

“Ahh, yes,” he butts in, “what a fuck-up am I, right? Haha, nice one Reggie. You really did a good job on this speech. Well, I must be going…”

“Number Four! Come back here, you will stand and listen when i address you.”

Klaus keeps walking. He wishes he could run. He hears Reginald mutter quietly as he is leaving.

“He had so much potential…”

Well, someone had to be the family fuck-up, right? Might as well be sad, ghost-boy Klaus. He heads to his room. There’s a hidden bottle of whiskey calling his name.

\---

Ben dies only a little bit after they turn sixteen. It’s bloody and violent, and Klaus wants to cry every time he thinks about it. Ben deserved so much better. When it first happens, Klaus gets home and immediately goes to the bathroom and throws up. Then he goes to his room and drinks until he passes out.

Waking up doesn’t get easier in the days afterward. Klaus is going through the motions, drinking a bit too much. Ben appears by Klaus’s side the day before the funeral. He’s quiet- terribly quiet. Klaus doesn’t understand why he’s able to see him; alcohol usually keeps most of the ghosts away. He takes it as a blessing, even though the blood seeping through Ben’s shirt makes him feel sick.

They get a day off of training for the funeral. They stand in a line, dressed in black, as Hargreeves gives a speech. Throughout the entire speech, Hargreeves doesn’t call him “Ben”. Not even once. There's a tombstone, and a statue, and a plaque.

Hargreeves drones on, “Number Six” this and “Number Six” that. Klaus feels sorry for Ben, knowing he has to watch a man who never loved or cared for him talk as if he knew him at all. The motions all seem fake and superficial. He is angry for Ben, who deserves more than the hollow words of this uncaring man.

He is bitter. Klaus hopes that when he dies, he isn’t buried in this courtyard. He wants to escape this place, even if only in death. He’s sorry for Ben that he has to be buried here.

\---

Klaus knows he needs help. He scares himself with how badly he needs to get blackout drunk every night. He scares himself everytime he takes a new pill and feels the way his heart speeds up. And in the moments where he is sober, which are becoming fewer and farther in between, he has disturbing thoughts.

Thoughts of bugs eating at his flesh and ripping his skin open with his nails. He wants the bath water hotter and hotter, wants to burn his skin and scrub all the filth out of himself.

He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He’s obsessed with his own mortality, can’t stop thinking about the veins in his skin, his organs working away inside of him, his delicate bones. It disgusts him, his body. He can’t believe he’s alive, keeps checking his pulse to make sure he’s alive.

There’s something so wrong with him, and he needs help. In this house so full of people, he has been so alone in his grief. So alone in his brokenness. He needs.

He goes over his list of people he can talk to. None of his siblings; Reginald made it pretty clear he wasn’t allowed to burden them with his problems. Klaus didn’t want to hurt his siblings, fuck them up with his shit. He didn’t want them to get in trouble by helping him.

He could go to grace. She was his mom, she loved him. She was nice. She was nice, but nice wasn’t the same as understanding. She was programmed by Hargreeves. She wouldn’t know what to do, she would just look concerned, tell Klaus there’s nothing to fear, and probably bring him to Hargreeves.

That left him with Pogo.

He searched the house for him. It’s always striking how empty the house can be despite all of the people who live here. He wanders through halls, slightly buzzed from the beers he had earlier.

The house is filled with carpets, marble floors, fancy and uncomfortable armchairs that no one would ever sit in. Eventually he finds Pogo in the small reading room on the second floor. Good. A quiet place. Klaus couldn’t help but feel a little shame at his… problems.

“Pogo?”

Pogo looks up from his book, glasses perched on his nose.

“Yes, Master Klaus?”

“Can I uh- can I talk to you?”

Pogo gives him a concerned look, and gestures to the chair next to him. It’s one of those uncomfortable arm-chairs. Klaus sits down, pulls his knees up to his chest. He feels vulnerable. It doesn’t feel good.

“Now, what is wrong?”

“Pogo, I- I think I need help,” Klaus pauses, looking to see what reaction that gets. Pogo nods for him to continue. “I just- I’m so angry and so upset right now, and Ben is- Ben is gone but you know, I can still see him sometimes, so why doesn’t that make it all better? But, Pogo-”

Klaus feels himself start to ramble. He got himself to this point, and now he doesn’t know what to say.

“I know Hargreeves wants us to be a good team, and I feel bad for being so selfish, but he said I wasn’t allowed to let my shit affect the team,” Pogo flinches at Klaus’s language, but doesn’t interrupt, “but you know, it’s not fair the way he treats me and I wanted to believe that he cares but-”

Now Pogo interrupts.

“Now, Klaus. You’re hurting, but it’s unfair to put that on your father. He’s a complicated man, but he’s doing his best for you. He really does care for you.” Klaus feels himself tearing up at that. It doesn’t really feel that way, does it? “Now, what is bothe-”

“But Pogo, he tells me I’m a disappointment. And how could I ever go to him with anything? He doesn’t even care what i do to myself and-”

Pogo is frowning, and Klaus suddenly realizes that maybe this conversation could find its way back to Reginald, if Klaus isn’t careful. Fuck. That means Klaus has no one.

“You know what, never mind. I think I’m fine! Thanks so much Pogo, but turns out I’m okay.”

“Master Klaus, wait-”

Klaus is already running out of the door. Déjà Vu.


	3. Chapter 3

He runs through the halls back to his room and locks the door. Shoves his wardrobe against it just to be safe. When he pushes the wardrobe it scrapes against the floor loudly; no one will be listening. It leaves gouges in the wood floor.

When the door is appropriately barricaded, Klaus turns the lights down low and opens the window. It’s early evening and starting to turn dusky, though the sun hasn’t fully set. He can’t see the sunset from here, but the purplish tint of the light is nice.

He pulls a lighter and a cigarette from between his mattress and the wall. He flicks the lighter, just watches the flames dance; he loves fire. He lets it go off and flicks it again a few times, mesmerized, before lighting his cigarette. Tucking the cig into the corner of his mouth he climbs onto the window sill and hangs his legs out of the window.

He sits there for a long time, thinking. He takes drag after drag from the cigarette, swings his feet, looks out at the world outside his window.

So he’s all by himself in this. He’s scared and alone, except for when Ben shows up every once in a while. 

No, he’s not just alone in this. He was made to be alone in this. Reginald hargreeves broke him, fucked up his life, made him like this. Or maybe Klaus is the piece of shit. Who cares. Life sucks, and Klaus Hargreeves is angry about it.

Well, let them watch me rot, slow and painful-like.

\---

Maybe it’s not the best timing to be coming to big realizations about himself, but why not? It’s something he’s been putting off for a long time. He’s lying on his back in the center of the room, palms flat on the dirty floor. Too long since he cleaned in here, and he’s always tracking mud in on his shoes.

He’s lying on the floor, and he starts thinking. About girls and boys. What does love feel like, and how will he know? Now, reflecting back on it, he can’t recall a single time where he felt interested in anyone. He thought he had, and it throws him that those memories don’t really exist.

When they used to sneak out to the donut shop he would look at the faces of everyone they passed. Beautiful people with things on their minds. He remembers whispering to Ben about the cute girl he saw in the booth across from them. Did he feel attraction to her? What does attraction feel like?

He thinks about the other kids his age he sees when he sneaks out and goes to dive-bars. He can’t quite imagine a relationship with anyone, but he thinks about the guys he’s danced with, laughed with outside while passing a joint back and forth.

That one guy with the long, thin eyebrows, a piercing on the left one. Round face and dimples, acne on his forehead. Crooked teeth. Or the guy with the dreadlocks and a smile like the sun. He had long eyelashes and Klaus remembers being high off his ass and trying to brush his fingers over them, nearly falling into the guys lap.

Klaus’s world stops for a moment at the memory, fracturing, pieces flying apart and then fitting themselves back together in a new pattern. Huh. Yeah, he probably should have figured this out much earlier.

Ben is standing in the corner, hood pulled over his head and looking down. He still hasn’t spoken, but now he follows Klaus everywhere he goes.

“Hey, Ben.”

Ben looks up. Klaus feels the adrenaline flooding his body, knowing what his next words are going to be.

“I think I’m gay.”

Klaus waits. And then Ben smiles. He doesn’t speak, but he does mouth something, and it looks to Klaus like “I’m proud of you.”

Klaus laughs, relief and leftover adrenaline making him feel a little punch drunk. He’s always been the problem child, but this feels like his first little rebellion. A step towards becoming himself.

\---

Klaus sees the shoes in the window of a thrift store. They’re heels, a matte black color with light pink details. They remind him a little of Grace’s old heels, though he thinks maybe these are a little more his style.

He doesn’t have any money on him, but he promises himself he’s coming back the next day. At home he checks the money he has. Not a lot. In the afternoon he sneaks downstairs and finds the silverware set that he knows hasn’t seen the light of day in years; Hargreeves won’t notice that it’s gone for a long, long time.

He pawns the silverware and gets a good amount of money for it. It’s enough for those shoes for sure. He walks to the store, kicking at bits of concrete that’s shaken loose from the pavement. He nods at some of the people he passes, smiling. Some of them smile back. Most of them give him weird looks.

The door of the thrift store jingles when he pushes it open. The only person inside is the person at the register, who smiles at him and then goes back to reading their book.

He looks at the shoes in the window display, and hesitates. Is he playing into a stereotype by wanting these? Is this okay? What will father say? No, this isn’t about what others are going to see in him. This is about finally letting himself become who he always was.With that thought, he steels himself and clears his throat.

“Um, excuse me?” His voice is quieter than he wants, wavering.

The shopkeeper looks up and hums to indicate that they’re listening.

“Is it- is it okay if I try on the shoes in the window? I mean… can I take them from the window? To try them on?”

They give him a reassuring smile and nod.

“Yeah, take whatever out and try it. Tell me if you need anything.”

He grabs the shoes from the window and sits down on one of the chairs by all of the shoes. He takes off the sneakers he’s wearing and pulls the heels on. This time they fit. He does up the little clasps, fumbling with clumsy fingers.

He stands up, not fall or tripping like he did all those years ago. The shoes are comfortable, heels not to tall for him. He walks around, liking the little extra height it gives him. He doesn’t really need it; he’s six feet. But they make him feel bigger, more powerful. He likes the way he looks in the mirror, even though he’s still mastering moving in them and his knees are bent a bit funny.

Ben gives him a thumbs up in the mirror. That makes Klaus smile.

He walks around the store in them and looks at other stuff. There are a lot of ugly button ups that he doesn’t want. Weird frilly dresses. A sweatshirt with the words, “If There’s NO BINGO in Heaven I’m NOT Going.” Klaus is sorely tempted to get that one.

Then he stumbles on a pair of boots, and he falls in love with them in the same way that he feel in love with the heels. They’re old leather boots, beaten up. Handsome old boots. They remind him of Waiting For Godot. He needs them.

He quickly tries them on too, and by some miracle they also fit. Yes, yes he has to get them. Switching back into his sneakers, he goes up the counter.

“Hey, can I get these?”

The person behind the counter nods, gives him the total. He pays in cash, handing the money over and trying to keep a poker face. Totally legit money. Totally cool how I’m buying these heels. Please don’t ask questions.

They take his money without question, ringing him up and handing him the plastic bag, shoes stuffed inside.

“Those heels look good on you.”

It isn’t what Klaus expects and he blushes, trips over his words before blurting out a, “thank you!” And running out of the store.

\---

Pogo catches him skateboarding in the hallway. Klaus is very drunk. He was just at a show where he had managed to convince a bunch of people to buy him booze. When he was walking back he had noticed a skateboard in a dumpster. He had never wanted to skateboard before, but he fished it out anyway. 

Klaus had given up on the sneaking around now, and had just walked in the front door of the academy, reeking of cheap booze and sweat. That had earned him a disapproving look from Pogo and Luther, who was sitting in the living room next to Reginald.

It didn’t garner a reaction from Reginald, who apparently had more important things to consider, like yesterday’s paper.

Skateboarding in the hallway seemed like a great idea, and now that Klaus is doing it he can confirm that it was. It’s exhilarating, the walls blurring around him as he races down the hallway. Recklessly careening across the uneven wooden floor. Going over knots in the wood is fun. Each time it feels like maybe he’s going to fall down.

“Master Klaus!”

Oh, mister kill-joy is here. Whoop-de-do!

“What?”

“This is dangerous behavior.”

“Pogo, being in this family is dangerous behavior, I think-” Klaus isn’t paying attention and hits the edge of a rug. He goes flying off the skateboard, slides on the rug and scrapes up his arms and legs.

He comes to a stop and lays there for a moment. The rug burns sting, and he knows there’s probably some blood. Pogo is offering his hand, but Klaus stands up by himself. He doesn’t need help this time. Not anymore.

\---

Klaus gives himself a stick and poke in the dark of his room. It’s late at night, and he can’t sleep. He’s a little more sober than he wants to be, and he’s trying his best to ignore the ghost standing in the corner. Blood is spilling out of one of here eyes, and she keeps making these quiet keening noises. At least she isn’t harassing him like some of the ghosts do.

His logic is this: maybe a tattoo will make him feel a little more real. It’ll be an assertion of himself. An assertion of autonomy, maybe. And he wants to feel the pain, and see his skin permanently changed. A mark of who he is in this moment.

He decides on just writing “hey there” in small capital letters on the inside of his right thigh. It’s stupid, and maybe tacky. But it makes him laugh. And Ben only sighs and rolls his eyes once, so it’s probably not that terrible of an idea, right? 

The eye-roll might have even just been a reaction to Klaus taking off his pants. 

Klaus sits shirtless, just wearing hot pink briefs and thick black socks. He uses a lighter to disinfect a sewing needle, and cracks open an old ballpoint pen for ink. It takes a long time, and it hurts poking at the sensitive skin of his thigh. The letters are a bit shaky when he’s done; he hasn’t slept in a long time. It’s spotty at points, and stretches weird when he moves his leg in certain positions. He loves it.

\---

Klaus packs up everything he might need a couple nights before his eighteenth birthday. His favorite clothes, whatever money he can find, his cigarettes and stash of drugs. He snatches some trinkets that he knows Reginald won’t miss, and on his way back down the hall he spots a skirt hanging on Allison’s door knob. He knocks on the door, even though it’s partway open already.

“Yeah?” She calls from inside.

“What’s this skirt doing here?”

“Oh uh, I’m getting rid of it.”

Klaus grabs the skirt too, and squishes it in on top of his other belongings.

Well, here goes nothing. He climbs out of the window to leave. It’s not for Reginald Hargreeves’ benefit. Klaus doesn’t want any of his siblings to see him leaving.

They’re walking down the street when Ben speaks for the first time since he died.

“So… what do you want to do for our birthday?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //http://shiftythrifting.tumblr.com/post/173854609724/i-found-the-best-sweatshirt-at-the-salvation-army the sweatshirt in question
> 
> //please, if you give yourself or someone else a stick and poke promise me you will look up how to do everything safely. Klaus (and i) are idiots. at least i didn’t use pen ink


End file.
